It is just another European evening, but on the eighteenth floor of the Brussels Hilton we are celebrating. The table is strewn with debris. Empty bottles and plates, bread baskets, corkscrews, napkins: an aerial view of a vanquished city. A treaty has been signed and we are celebrating with our new friends, the Swiss bankers. My right leg is shaking beneath the table but otherwise there is nothing to suggest that I am feeling anything but calm, relaxed and contented after a good day
Edited by spynovelfan, 16 March 2005 - 09:01 PM.